


Harry Potter and the mountain of pure diamond

by Maximonstre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-06-15 17:53:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15418380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maximonstre/pseuds/Maximonstre
Summary: Many, many years after the defeat of Voldemort, Harry has accepted the truth : he is what can only be described as a god. To relieve his anxiety of eternity, he travels between worlds. One day, he stumbles upon one which is far too similar to his first one for his peace of mind. And in which lives one little Tom Riddle, determined to pierce all the secrets of his new guardian...





	1. Chapter 1

_Harry, do you think about me ?_  
Red hair, fair skin, brown eyes.  
_Harry, do you think about me ?_  
Soft lips, bitten nails, pointed elbows.  
_Harry…_

 

Harry woke up suddenly, sweaty and disoriented. He rarely lost himself in the world of dreams, precisely because of this type of nightmares. But sometimes, the world of the living was too much and simply existing became… intolerable. Sleep was like a small death for him, and the only death he was going to get.

 

Harry sighed and took in his surroundings. He currently lived in a small hut in the middle of the Sahara, because after a while, dealing with humans had become difficult.

All things alive had risen one day without reason, and it seemed as if after a blink, they would quietly lay in the sand, their cells slowly disintegrating. And in between, there was a wonderful moment of tension, of excitement, of discovering.. All emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time. He could only remain a spectator, forever wistful of the wonder that was life.

 

But that was enough angst for the day. Harry stood up and got out of the hut to stare at the starry sky. If his calculations were right-and they usually were-he would be able to go to the next world in a few minutes. He had the time to shower.

 

After the death of the last descendant of Teddy (Sophie, her name was Sophie…), but more precisely of the last person who knew him as Harry Potter, he had decided to go away. This world was now dead to him, and staying could only mean living in memories.

Once he had made the conscious decision of leaving, he realized that had always known the means to do so. In a corner of his brain, there was the entire universe, but he had been too stubborn to accept it.

 

The death of Sophie also meant the death of his last bond to his humanity. The very second she closed her eyes for the last time, he accepted the fact that he was a god.

 

He, Harry Potter, or the being that wore this name, could never die.  
But it also meant that he suddenly could do anything.  
So he left.

 

And sometimes, just sometimes, he allowed himself to think about the endless expense of time that seemed to englue him… But then, he had become an expert of refusing to consider the obvious. Change was his greatest friend, but eventually, in each world, he would fall behind the new generations of creatures that lived in it, and then, he would leave.

 

Harry suddenly lifted his head. The stars that only he could see had finally aligned ; it was time to go. He took a deep breath, tasting the magic that seemed to flow in the air, and took his first steps in years in space. And when he reopened his eyes…

 

He was not in the Sahara anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry smiled, a bit tipsy because of the magic that always seemed to sing and dance when he used it to pass between worlds.These first moments were always the most precious. The stage of discovery made him remember his youth, when magic was new and every corner hid a wonder.

 

He currently was in a forest, that seemed altogether terrian. So he may still be on a version of Earth… He crouched to touch the earth under his feet. He could sense magic. He decided to simply walk to get out of the woods, to get himself used to the birds and trees that lived on this planet. And after a few hours, he could sense them slowly taking their rightful place in his brain.

 

Finally, he saw the beginning of a city at the edge of the woods. He recognized London. Pleased, he entered the capital after casting a notice-me-not. He understood fast that it was not _his_ London. He could taste worry and fear in the air. He snatched a paper from a bin and looked for the date.

 

28 May 1939…

So it was world war two.

 

But he could also sense magic in the atmosphere… He decided to see for himself if this world had birthed wizards and witches or something else altogether. He continued to walk slowly, taking the time to observe this London that suffered the quiet before the tempest. It really was a tense atmosphere. He shuddered.

 

Suddenly he was hit by something-no, someone. Surprised, he looked down, only to stare into the darkest eyes he had ever seen.

 

“Are you okay?” he said, helping the boy to stand straight.  
He was one of these pretty children that were always used for the adds, with his hair as dark as his eyes and his pale skin. But he also sported a bruise on his cheek. Harry reigned his rage in and looked around him, searching for what had made the boy flee. He saw a group of children around the boy’s age down the street, running towards them.

 

He sighed and looked down again. The boy was also looking at the children, a concentrated frown on his face. When he noticed that Harry had reported his attention on him, he suddenly smiled and answered:

  
“I… I’m fine, sir, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going…”  
“It’s quite alright,” said Harry, amused despite himself by the attempt at manipulation. He decided to play the game. “Were you playing with these children?”  
“Oh, no, I was reading when they decided to… Nevermind, I’m sorry to take your time.”

 

Oh, he was good. But strangely, Harry could feel that he was lying. Meanwhile, the children had stopped upon noticing them and had quickly backed away, snickering. They had thought that the boy was being scolded because of his hunched shoulders.

 

“You can stop, you know, they seem to have decided to let you endure my ire. They’re gone.”  
The boy dropped his saddened expression, and stared at Harry through shrewd eyes.  
“I don’t know what you mean.”  
“Right. Now, may I see this bruise? I’m a doctor. It will heal faster.”

 

Without waiting for an answer-he knew the boy would refuse-, he touched the bruised cheek and recoiled in surprise.  
“Oh, you’re magical.”

 

And suddenly, the boy, who had begun to look outraged, stilled eerily and concentrated his entire attention on him.

 

And Harry was engulfed by one of the hungriest stares he had seen in a long time.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you mean ?“ The boy whispered, eyes blazing.

 

Harry couldn’t help but smile. He had been a professor at Hogwarts a long time ago, and this revelation was always one of his favorite parts of the job.

“Would you mind having a hot chocolate for this conversation? I’m afraid I need a little rest.”  
“No. Tell me now.”

 

Harry could sense the faintest compulsion against his brain. Surprised, he looked again at the boy. His face had become very cold.

“That wasn’t very polite. You shouldn’t do that to people.”  
It was the turn of the boy to look surprised. But then he looked incredibly excited.  
“So you are… You are like me. You know what I’m doing ! Magic, is it?”  
“Oh well, I see you’re too impatient for a drink. Come, we should at least sit on this bench.”

 

The boy obeyed easily, but Harry could see the contained tension in his shoulders and the briefest look of irritation on his face. This boy was very strange, indeed, but Harry found himself weirdly fascinated by him.

 

“Before we begin, do your relatives know about your powers ?”  
The boy raised an eyebrow.  
“I’m an orphan. And the people at the orphanage may suspect something, but they will never have any proof.”

  
Harry could see a wicked light in the eyes of the boy. He also raised an eyebrow.  
“Alright. Do strange things appear around you, like when you’re very angry or very happ-”  
“Yes !” interrupted the boy, looking like he might jump right off the bench. The wicked light had invaded his face, and he looked… “I can move objects. Animals obey me. And I can punish the ones I dislike. Hurt them, if I want to.”

  
Harry examined the boy. Something… Something that he said…

  
“Really? I will not immediately talk about the fact that you use magic to hurt people, even if I disagree with that...” (and the boy looked just a bit disdainful for a second) “...But that’s very impressive. Most wizards and witches can’t control their powers at this stage.”  
“That’s not all.” The boy smiled shrewdly, his eyes fixed upon Harry. “I can talk too snakes. Is that special, too?”

 

Harry stared at the boy.

 

“I forgot to ask, but what’s your name?”  
The boy straightened himself, a defiant look in his eyes.  
“I’m Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

 

(And really, Harry should have guessed at the very moment Tom ran into him.)

 

“What’s your name?” Tom asked imperiously.  
Harry was suddenly torn from the blankness that had invaded him.  
“Oh, I’m Harry Potter.”

 

He looked again at the little boy. It wasn’t the first time that he encountered a variation of a person of his first life. Sometime it was fine, he had become just a bit nostalgic when he had found a Susan Bones and a Theodore Nott working as servants for a yohutian empress. However he had felt his heart die a little when he had gazed upon a Ron and a Hermione living together on Mars. They had been a bit irritated by his staring at their first meeting.  
(He didn’t want to think about it…)

 

Still, it was the first time he saw a new version of the dark lord that had tormented his youth. Harry… found himself curious.

 

“How old are you?”  
Tom glowered.  
“I’m eleven years old.”

  
Harry smiled.  
“Soon, you’ll go to Hogwarts. Well, if we are in a world like the one I knew.”  
“What do you mean? Are there also other worlds out there?”  
“Yes, plenty. But I’m new to this one.”  
“Are all wizards able to travel between worlds?”

 

Tom had an avid expression on his face, his body entirely angled towards Harry.  
The latter smiled.

 

“You’re a clever one. I’m special, a bit like you. No one else but you can talk to snakes in this world, if it’s like my old one. And no one else but me should be able to travel like I do. Obviously, there are always exception, but these are few and far between.”

“I need to think,” muttered Tom, a dazed look in his eyes.  
“But of course,” said Harry pleasantly, looking around him.

  
After a few seconds, he stood up.  
“What are you doing?” Tom said harshly.  
“I’d like to see if the magical part of London is like the one in my world. Do you want to come with me?”  
“There is a magical part?”  
“Potentially.”  
“I’ll come.”

 

Tom stood up quickly and began to walk. Harry adapted his steps to Tom’s.

“You’re taking this rather well,” he commented.  
“I knew… I knew I was special. That there wasn’t just the orphanage for me.”  
Tom seemed to tremble with excitation.  
“Of course, of course...”Harry muttered.

 

There was a silence, both of them lost in their thoughts.

 

“You knew me. In your old world.”  
“Indeed. But we weren’t friends, that’s for sure.”  
“What do you mean?” Tom asked coldly.

 

Harry sighed again. The situation had gotten away from him. He was a bit unprepared to meet Tom. Oh, well… He didn’t necessarily like secrets…

“We were what you could call enemies. It didn’t end well for either of us.”  
Tom fixed him uncomprehendingly.  
“Why are you approaching me, then?”  
“Well, do you really think that you are no different from the Tom I knew in another world? And even if you are no different, I think the circumstances of our meeting are different enough to not hold any prejudices against you, or you against me. Don’t you agree?”

 

Tom’s face was completely blank. Finally, he declared:  
“A wise speech.”  
Harry smiled.  
“Thank you. Oh, look, we have arrived.”

 

And while Tom looked around him, perplexed, Harry couldn’t help but feel accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. Hope you liked it !


	3. Chapter 3

Tom tried to stay cool at the sight of Diagon Alley, but he definitely looked delighted. Harry chuckled as he took in the streets before him. It really looked like his old world…  
Harry walked towards a paper boy, and thanked him as he was given a paper with a sinister headline. Tom quickly rejoined him.

 

“The… pictures are moving.” he said slowly, most likely trying to process everything at once.  
“Yup” answered Harry cheerfully, as he examined the beaming Grindelwald that waved at the world through the picture. He looked up.

 

“I’m going to buy ice-cream, do you want to come with me?”  
Tom stared at him.  
“Where is the ice-cream place?”  
“Just here.” said Harry pleasantly, pointing at Fortescue’s down the streets.  
Tom narrowed his eyes and declared imperiously :  
“I’m going to look around. You will wait for me there until I return.”  
“Tom” smiled Harry, “Try again with the magic word.”  
There was a beat of silence.  
“Please.”  
If looks could kill, Harry would already have been four feet under.  
“Of course. Have fun.”

 

With that done, Harry commanded a peach-flavoured ice cream and began to seriously read the paper.  
Grindelwald was apparently becoming more and more powerful, and the journalist was vaguely alarmed about his dominion over France, but it seemed as if he mostly felt apathy towards the dark lord. He had not yet touched magical England, and he barely would before Dumbledore would stop him, from what Harry remembered. But other countries (and muggle England) didn’t have that chance, and wouldn’t be safe so soon.

 

Harry put down the paper and observed the streets. The wizards and witches didn’t look too worried, they carried on with their business, books flying in the air, small beads exploding where the children were playing, some teenagers dancing with a gramophone that floated in front of a bookshop. Diagon Alley didn’t seem to have a care in the world, contrarily to their muggle counterpart.

Suddenly Tom reappeared in the crowd, and walked decisively towards Harry. A bit surprised, Harry realized he had been spending quite some time lost in his thoughts.

 

“So… How was it?” he asked, after a minute of Tom mulishly staring at the empty pot in front of him. Tom glared at him and asked :  
“What’s a mudblood?”

 

Harry went still. It hadn’t even been two hours.

 

“It’s an insult aimed at people born of non-magical parents. The British normally call them muggleborns. There are awful people that believe that they are less magically gifted, and therefore less altogether.”

 

Tom stayed silent.

 

“Where did you hear that?” asked Harry softly.

 

The boy examined him, and apparently found what he was looking for, because he answered :  
“I was looking at these flying brooms and an old man whispered that to his wife when he was looking at me.”

 

Harry didn’t quite know what to say.

“Don’t worry about these old farts, they don’t represent the views of the entire magical world.”  
Well, at least in his times.  
Tom still didn’t look convinced. Harry wondered what he could say to repair this. His excitement seemed to have suddenly been dampened, and words had never really been his forte… But Tom wasn’t paying him any attention and seemed lost in his thoughts.  
Harry looked at his watch. It already was quite late; he should begin to look for a place to sleep.

 

“Tom, maybe I should escort you to your orphanage...”  
Said boy suddenly looked up, indignant.  
“You’re going to leave me there after this ?”

 

Harry blinked.

 

“Well… I’m sure we could meet up again in the next few days but...”  
“Bullshit!” interrupted Tom. Harry was vaguely shocked. He did not expect the young dark lord to have a potty mouth. “Its not like you can’t take me with you. You’re a wizard. And you’ve seen what happens to me with the other kids right?”  
Harry frowned. In his memory the bully definitely was Tom. But maybe the rules were different in this world.  
“Tom, I can’t adopt you just after I met you. In fact, I’m terrible with children.”

 

Tom was very tense.  
“I’m magical. Are you going to live me in a muggle orphanage?” he asked, the new vocabulary rolling easily on his tongue.

 

Harry just stared. At no point of his life could he have imagined that young Voldemort would suggest that he adopt him. For a brief moment, he found himself wondering if he could really live with the child… And then he promptly squashed that thought.

 

“Listen, I’m going to bring you back to the orphanage, and I will come see you tomorrow. That’s the best I can offer right now.”

 

So both of them walked back to muggle London, Tom glaring all the way. When they left the bar, Harry was once again hit by the difference between the magical and the muggle world in these times. Everything became once again grey. Harry glanced at Tom. Well, he didn’t even have a place to live for now.

 

When Harry gave his farewell, Tom just stayed silent, having regained a stony expression. Harry chose to disappear, not really wanting to feel the weight of his gaze while he walked away. It followed him nonetheless. But really, why should the kid immediately become his responsibility ? Harry hadn’t taken care of a human for a long time.

  
Shaking these unwanted thoughts, Harry looked around him. He had chosen the magical part of the forest of Dean to install himself. He lifted his arms and began to work his magic. He murmured to the trees, asking them to twist and to embrace themselves, and they answered slowly, slowly, as if he had awakened them from a nap. He felt their distanced awareness, so different from the humans, as they gazed right back at him and they wondered. He smiled as they decided they liked him and began to take the shape of his future home. He then began to circle the house, muttering spells and wards, a distinct nostalgia tugging at his heart. Finally he looked at his new home, satisfied. It was small, but largely enough for one person.

 

He entered one of the empty rooms, promptly created a bed and fell right into it. It had been a long day. Even if he didn’t feel tired, he closed his eyes and let himself fall… fall…

_fall..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the long wait. I have to say that I still have exams so I will still be busy for the next few weeks, but I wanted to update this. I hope you liked it.


	4. Chapter 4

_He was walking between the stars, alone… He looked at the distant light of a forgotten sun, listened to the sound of photons buzzing. He was tired… So tired… And suddenly Sophie appeared, sitting on the star just across him. She was smiling._

_“How is it going uncle Harry?”_

_Harry blinked and answered :_

_“Well enough. I think I met an incarnation of a young dark lord.”_

_But Sophie had already disappeared._

_Harry blinked again and he found himself in the middle of a desert, sand slowly sliding down the dunes, a soft wind in his hair. The sky was inky blue, illuminated by thousands of lights. Sophie stood in front of him._

_“Are you going to leave once again, without giving your heart at all?”_

_“That’s not true. I’ve made plenty of friends.”_

_“Really? Why do you only remember Hermione and Ron, then?”_

_“You know I remember others, Sophie.” Once he pronounced her name, she disappeared again. Harry looked around him, a bit confused. Suddenly, he smelled peaches in the air, and felt a hand caressing his arm. He couldn’t move._

_“Harry...”_

_He saw red hair. He couldn’t move._

_Blink. He was under water, in what seemed to be an abyss; he was so deep that no light could touch him. Sophie reappeared, an old lantern in her hands._

_“Are you going to leave him, uncle Harry ? Are you going to leave him? He told you he was suffering. You brought him right back to it.”_

_Harry just looked at her, drank in her appearance._

_“Are you going to leave him? To leave him like you left me?”_

 

Harry woke up.

 

He sighed, passing a hand through his dampened hair. Sleep was a blessing and a curse.

 

While he was showering, he finally admitted to himself his desire to adopt Tom. He had only met the boy for a few hours, really, but, despite what he had wanted to believe, he felt a sense of responsibility towards him. Maybe this Tom wasn’t a young Voldemort…

Well. He wouldn’t gamble too much on this, seeing how he behaved himself during their brief encounter. But nonetheless, dare he say it… He wanted to know the boy, he wanted to offer him a better life. He felt like a figment of his old world, and Harry was curious to discover the differences, if there were any. He hoped there would be. He ignored the distant fear tugging at his heart. Despite what Dream-Sophie had said, he really was able to form relationships. He got out of the shower he had created this morning. Time to go to the orphanage.

He glanced at his old shirt and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he was dressed in a fancy suit, a hat covering his messy hair.

 

The orphanage… wasn’t familiar. A bit disappointed in his own memories, Harry lifted his hand to knock at the door. After a long few minutes, a woman opened it. She looked exhausted.

 

“Yes?” she asked a bit briskly, but then she saw him, or rather his suit, and straightened up. “What can I do for you today, sir?”

Harry smiled.

“Oh, well yesterday I met a young boy, and I wanted to see if he would like to be adopted.”

Even if Harry doubted Tom would refuse.

 

The woman looked briefly surprised, then victorious, but she quickly scolded her face in a more neutral expression. Harry guessed that there weren’t many adoptions in these times, and that it would become more and more difficult to have enough food for all of the children.

 

“Of course, of course ! Follow me. I am Mrs Cole,” she said while walking through a corridor. She stopped at the end of a stairway.

 

“What’s the name of the boy, Mr...”

“Orson,” lied Harry smoothly. It was a name he had already used a few times.”And I believe his name was Tom.”

 

Mrs Cole froze.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Well, well…

“Quite.”

“Oh… Well I will let you two talk then… He is in room 43.”

 

Had Dumbledore also climbed the stairs alone or had she showed him the door directly? He couldn’t remember. Soon he found himself in front of said door, and entered after a quiet knock. Tom was sitting on his bed and quickly got up once he saw Harry. He looked mistrustful.

 

“Hello Tom,” smiled Harry. “I’d like to speak with you.”

“About?”

“Adoption.”

 

Toms expression didn’t change.

“Really? You didn’t seem so keen on it yesterday.”

“I needed a bit of time to think things through. And I decided that I would like to try this, if you want to of course.”

 

Tom narrowed his eyes, but Harry was stuck on the last part of what he just said. Really, why would Tom Riddle want Harry to adopt him ? Even if he was bullied, the orphanage offered him real independence… And that was one of the things that the Tom Harry knew prized above all else. Moreover, Harry’s Tom (he shuddered at this thought) had made the children fear him, which was convenient for him in the long run, he guessed. Was living in a magical house really worth leaving this small world Tom had created for himself ? Harry decided to simply ask.

 

“Tom… Why do you want to live with me?”

For a moment, Tom seemed to contemplate his answer. And then he looked at Harry right in the eye and declared with his childish voice, that sat oddly with what he was saying:

“You told me you were special. That you came from another world. That no wizard was like you.”

“Right...” answered slowly Harry. “But why would you believe me?”

After all, Voldemort had liked to believe that only he was special, that he possessed unimaginable powers. In a way, it had been the truth. Only Dumbledore had seemed just as powerful, and Voldemort had hated him. Tom sneered.

 

“Do you think I’m an idiot ? That I’m like the old couple that dismissed me after one glance?” he spat. “I’m not. I see you.”

 

And Harry... didn’t expect this. He didn’t know what he expected, maybe someone colder, but not this boy with fire in his eyes.

 

“So I want to live with you.”

 

And that was that. Harry announced that he would handle the administrative aspect with Mrs Cole, and something flashed on Tom’s face, but Harry decided to ignore it.

 

Mrs Cole looked relieved once he told her of his decision, but halfway through sorting the necessary papers, she hesitated, looking vaguely guilty.

“Are… Are you sure about the boy?”

Harry only tilted his head, a bit curious. Would it go like the discussion in his old world?

“I think so. Is there something that I should know?”

“Well… I think that Tom sometimes bully children. Of course, there never is any proof, but….”

She hesitantly looked at Harry. When she only found an interested but empathetic face, she kept going, speaking a bit faster, her voice dropping lower, like she finally was freeing herself from something she had held back for years:

“There is something strange with that boy. From the moment I saw him I knew. I knew that he would be trouble. Amy has never been the same since this trip… I don’t know what happened, no one wants to say, but I know he was involved. And this rabbit… Oh, I try not to show it, but the boy sometimes sc...”

 

She interrupted herself, seeming to realize she was saying more than she wanted to the one person who may relieve her of Tom. She had only wanted to free her conscience by telling him this, but she still hoped that he would take the boy. It seemed as if the latter really was like the one from his world. Well, he stood by what he said to Tom the previous day. He smiled.

 

“Should we complete these papers?”

 

An hour later, Tom was staring, delighted, at the house made of living trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. Let me know how you like it !


	5. Chapter 5

Life with Tom Riddle was...normal, to say the least. Which was what Harry had hoped, but it still surprised him a bit.

He had gotten Tom into a primary school for the end of the year, despite all of his protests, so his days were free to do what he wanted to do. Harry now had a whole routine down. He stood up from his favourite chair, set up the table outside, prepared tea and went to wake Tom up. Tom at first seemed surprised at the amount of food that Harry could create, but he quickly got used to it. Then, he would bring Tom to the little city near the forest. Tom always looked vaguely offended when Harry dropped him in front of the school, as if he had really imagined that he could stay in his room to read all day.

 

Tom, after finishing one of the books they had bought after a second trip to Diagon Alley, would often ask questions.

“It says here that it’s impossible to create food. Why can you do it?”

or

“Where is your wand ? Apparently Chinese wizards don’t use any, is that where you learned wandless magic?”

or

“It would be easier for me to have a wand, don’t you think so ?”

 

Harry tried to answer honestly, but really it often went down to : “I’m an exception” and to “Wait a couple of months, I won’t provide you a wand.”. Not that Tom really needed any for his little tricks. Harry was often reminded that Voldemort had been a genius when he saw him grabbing books with his magic or talking to the snakes in the garden, so that they could give him a magical herb to complete a third-year potion he wanted to test. 

 

So Harry would leave Tom at the little school, and then he would go meet the world. He didn’t do this process in each dimension, but here he had the time and nothing better to do. Thus he listened to the singing trees in South America, he walked through the bush and felt the prints of millions of men and women that came before him. He breathed the tortured smoke of a thousand factories, attended a wedding in India. And more and more, he was surprised to see the similarities with his first world. He slowly completed what he had began to do on his arrival, and as each piece of the world became a part of him, he marvelled at their familiarity, as if he was greeting old friends.

 

It was nearly the end of June when he picked up an angry Tom from school. God, Tom was one of the angriest but polite children he had ever known.

After having made dinner in a heavy silence, Tom asked drily :

“Why would you make me go with these… muggles?” 

Well… They’d already had this discussion but…

“Why wouldn’t I ? You can meet other children there.”

“I’m not a child,” Tom spat. “And they’re muggles.”

“Tom, you realize that they are humans like you right? The only difference is magic. But they are persons, like you.”

 

Tom sneered. Harry brought back books from Kafka, Camus and Du Maurier that Tom read reluctantly. He gave him tales of Nasreddin Hodja, of La Bruyère, and Nordic myths. When Tom scoffed, Harry simply said :

“I’ve learned more than you will ever know thanks to this type of tales.”

The following evening, When Harry saw the boy read _Egyptian history and Myths_ , he smiled.

 

Soon, the holidays arrived, and Harry turned to Tom.

“Do you want to see where I go when you’re at school?”

 

Yes, Tom wanted to.

 

So Harry brought him to the Sahara, a place still important to him, and Tom looked around him in wonder. Times when he would show Tom things he has never known before had rapidly become pieces of Harry’s favourite moments. These were some of the few hours where Tom would not sneer, or try to act charmingly sweet, or stare at him with an unreadable face.

 

They broke into a pyramid, after Harry made Tom swear not to take anything. Tom grudgingly accepted, but Harry promised himself to keep an eye on the boy.

While Tom gazed greedily at the golden hieroglyphs, Harry simply closed his eyes and caressed the sarcophagus in the middle of the ancient room. He felt nothing, nothing at all. Only dust had remained through the times. But when he straightened up and looked around him, he could see the ancient forms of the solemn slaves bringing in the sarcophagus, and the servants that accepted to die here but didn’t look ready. He sighed.

 

“What do you see?”

 

Tom was staring at him intently.

 

“Spirits that disappeared a long time ago.”

“Do you see them everywhere?”

“If I want to.”

“And if you don’t?”

“If the marks time has left are not important to me, I have to concentrate to see them. So I don’t have this problem.”

“Because nothing is important to you?”

“Something like that,” laughed Harry.

 

Tom frowned but said nothing. Harry returned to the sarcophagus. So much effort and suffering for someone who would only leave dust behind them… Well, and beauty, thought Harry while examining the colours of the tomb. What did the servants think, when they saw the light for the last time? Were they proud? Were they doubtful? 

 

“Harry.”

He turned, surprised. Tom rarely used his name.

“Come see this.”

Harry, now used to the way Tom couldn’t seem to talk without spouting orders when he let himself go, complied. Tom was standing in front of a plain wall, but he had very clearly pushed a stone that shouldn’t have been touched. Distantly, Harry felt old magic rising and growing rapidly stronger.

 

“Fucking hell, Tom.”

 

The latter looked at him, surprised, but Harry wasn’t paying him any attention. The traces that the servants had left were now slowly becoming tangible, and the magic that Tom had unknowingly triggered was preventing them from disappearing. Harry glanced at Tom, who was staring at the scene that was enfolding in front of them. The boy looked… impressed? Weirdly fascinated? Harry had no time for this.

 

“Tom, run!”

He pushed Tom towards the entrance of the tomb, making sure he was running behind the boy. Once they arrived at the end of the passage, Harry felt the newly awakened magic try to stop them, but he simply barrelled through, protecting Tom with all his might. The servants were howling behind them, and Harry didn’t know if it was his imagination, but he could feel ghostly fingers try to grasp them, to bring them back to the dark room. They ran. When they finally crossed the entrance, the shouting abruptly stopped, and Tom and Harry were left, gasping, at what seemed to be a very normal pyramid.

 

Tom left himself fall in the sand and began to laugh madly, his face strangely distorted. Harry joined him soon after, euphoria bubbling up through his spine. He hadn’t run like that for a long time.

 

That night, after a delicious feast to celebrate their escape, Harry lied in his bed, eyes wide open. He hadn’t visited the land of dreams for weeks. The more he put them off, the worst his nightmares were. And after the events of the day, he found it easy to relax… To slowly melt into the mattress…

 

And to _fall_.

_He was lying on a fluffy cloud, in the position he was in when he fell asleep. He sat up, expectantly looking around him, but there was no one. Only the tail of a blue dragon disappearing in the horizon._

_The sky was pink, and when he looked down, he saw the smoke of fires that had begun to take in the houses of a little village._

_Sophie appeared near him._

_“You nearly had me waiting.”_

_“Well, it’s for my own self-esteem, uncle Harry. It’s always me waiting, here,” she answered cheekily._

_Her eyes were boring into his._

_The pink sky, the smell of smoke, the fresh air all faded away. They were now at a round table in a bar. A bar situated on a floating station on Neptune, if he remembered correctly. The sounds of glasses clinking and of conversations created a strangely comforting white noise. Sophie commanded a beer. It appeared immediately._

_“So it’s going good, huh?”_

_“Quite. I thought it would be more difficult, but I had forgotten that eleven-year-olds are already fairly independent.”_

_Sophie silently sipped her beer._

_“Do you talk, though?”_

_“Of course,” answered Harry quizzically._

_And suddenly Ginny appeared in front of him, taking Sophie’s place. She was smiling. Her red hair shone brightly in the middle of the crappy bar._

_“Harry...”_

_She slowly raised her hand._

_But just before she could touch him, he felt a force pull him rapidly out of the bar, of Neptune, of space itself._

Harry woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Tom was standing in front of his bed, his face unreadable. Still a bit disoriented, Harry slowly sat up. What was Tom doing in his room, standing here like a child straight out of a horror movie?

 

“I didn’t think you could sleep.”

 

Harry just owlishly blinked at him.

 

“You didn’t prepare breakfast, and I was wondering where you were,” Tom explained without prompting.

 

His head clearing up a bit, Harry stood up and began to dress himself. Tom continued to talk. Harry had to wonder if the boy was nervous at being caught in his room. Seeing as Harry rarely slept, they had never found themselves in this situation.

 

“...So I set the table, if you’d like to eat now.”

 

Harry blinked out the rest of sleepiness that still clung to him. “Thank you, Tom. That was very… considerate.”

And not what he expected, but it was a welcome surprise.

 

During breakfast, Harry could feel Tom's stare on him, but he kept eating quietly his toast, not really bothered. He had grown used to it. Finally, Tom's curiosity won out, and he declared:

 

“You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

Harry sipped his hot chocolate.

“What question.”

Tom’s eyebrow twitched.

“Do you need sleep?”

Harry finished his toast, thinking about his answer. Tom waited impatiently.

“Not quite. I could live without sleeping. But it’s not really something that I should do. It’s like human touch. People deprived of it can live perfectly well, but it’s still a necessary part of life. For your psyche, if you will. I tend to avoid sleep because I don’t really like what comes with it. But I sometimes have to cave to maintain a certain balance.”

Tom looked a bit disbelieving and repeated: “People need human touch.”

“Of course.”

 

Harry started to butter another piece of bread and left the boy to his thoughts. Tom’s easy acceptance of Harry’s powers and peculiarities still baffled him quite a bit, but he was pleased with it. Most people he had revealed himself to did not roll with the truth as easily. Despite their best efforts, they would look at him differently. He became a godly being in their eyes, an omniscient creature. Which, often enough, was an accurate description, but he also was just Harry. And this part of himself he had kept close to his heart for eons would simply disappear in their eyes. On the contrary, even if Tom witnessed the many incredible things Harry could do, he still kept sneering at him, he still kept trying to manipulate him. In a way, Harry thought Tom still considered himself to be the immortal being’s equal. The boy suddenly interrupted his thoughts:

 

“Where should we go next?”

“Are you bored with Egypt, now?”

“Not at all, but I read about the different caves one could find in the Himalayas. It sounds interesting.”

"We can go there today if you want. We just have to get back home in a few days. I think you'll receive your invitation to Hogwarts."

 

Or at least, that's how it worked when he used to teach. The professors would come to the muggleborns at the beginning of august and perform miracles in front of the delighted,  frightened, and sometimes angry relatives. And they would whisk the child away to a world of magic and blood. Tom's eyes had lit up at the mention of Hogwarts. He had read all he could about moving stairs, talking portraits and ghosts. He was more than ready to see them with his own eyes. And to finally have a wand, of course.

 

Having finished his toast, Harry stood up and began to take out the dishes.

"Go prepare your things. We leave soon."

 

While Tom was making a pile of all his books, Harry vanished the wooden table and chairs he had created for the meals, and then waited patiently outside, his head turned to the sun. After a few minutes, Tom arrived with his floating piles of belongings, and Harry rapidly created a suitcase where Tom dropped his possessions. Harry shrunk it and handed it to Tom without a word. Finally Harry looked at the house he had built with the sand that surrounded them, and raised his arms. Slowly, grains began to fall, and soon enough, the house was crumbling on itself, sand sliding in waves. Harry raised a shield to protect Tom, who was watching the fast erosion with something like awe. Harry smiled.

 

"Ready to go?"

Tom looked at him a bit disdainfully. Harry would take that as a yes. Silently, they disappeared from the desert, without leaving even a footprint behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

Tom was beginning to tire. Harry could hear his heavy breaths at every step they took now. A bit earlier, after having reached the higher parts of the mountains, he had created warmer clothes for the boy, and a warm cape for himself. Still, Tom's fingers were red. He struggled to walk but kept going. Harry felt weirdly... proud of him. Suddenly Tom raised his head.

"There is a cave here."

Harry looked, and he found a small entrance between to grainy folds. Blink and you would miss it. Moreover, there were traces of old magical wards in front of the hole to prevent muggles to find it. Brimming with excitement, Tom reached rapidly the entrance, seemed to consider the magic in front of him for a second, and then walked into the mountain with no more hesitation. Harry followed silently.

 

It was dark. Harry lifted his hand and blew softly. Little lights erupted from his fingers and danced in front of them, illuminating Tom's envious eyes. The boy led the march as they walked deeper and deeper into the rooms that had been lovingly carved by water. The air was cool, but still warmer than outside, and surprisingly dry. Harry couldn't feel any trace of an animal living here. Suddenly, Tom stopped at the entrance of a new room, the little lights still flying above his head. When Harry walked into the room, he could understand why.

 

The walls were filled with thousands of coloured stones, and thanks to the lights, the room was strangely lit, soft gold mixing with dark red bleeding into deep blue, thousands of little spots of colour dancing and moving with the lights. Harry lifted his head. He could see an evacuation in the ceiling. He tried to imagine the room as it had surely been used, with the warm orange flames of a fire giving a soul to its surroundings. While Harry was observing the walls, Tom had slowly made his way to the center of the room, where stood a well rounded block of green stone.

 

"Can you see something?"

Harry looked at the boy. He had closed his eyes, with a concentrated frown. Maybe he was trying to see what Harry could. He looked at the room with new intent. And slowly, he began to feel the warmth of a burning fire, and the vibrations in the ground caused by the people that had danced here, that had created chaos and laughed at the sight of it.

 

Without even thinking about it, Harry approached Tom and gently touched his shoulder. The boy gasped. Suddenly, he could see the fire and its sparks, the dance and the strange masks, the cup on the stone and the wine on the floor.

 

"Who are they?" muttered Tom.

"Villagers from the fifth century. They are celebrating the arrival of summer."

They kept observing them for a few minutes. Tom was looking intently at the green stone with the cup of gold. He could feel the magic born from them. When Harry softly let the scene go, Tom didn't seem surprised. He simply narrowed his eyes.

 

"There isn't any magic anymore."

"It's been gone for centuries now," Harry agreed. "Nothing and nobody fed it. Most places that lost their magical plants, animals or people can't keep their own magic and stop evolving with time. They still can have traces of the past, as you've seen, but they aren't as powerful."

"You talk of this cave as if it were alive."

"In a way, it is to me. Not really in the sense humans could understand, though."

 

Tom didn't ask for details. He was yet again frowning at the stone.

"Did you like it?"

Tom looked at him with baffled eyes while Harry blinked. He hadn't meant to ask that. But before he could speak, Tom answered:

"It was interesting. It's fascinating to know you have access to... this at any moment. I'm impressed at the fact that you don't lose yourself more often in the past."

 

Harry simply smiled.

That night, he created a small house perilously crooked between the snowy rocks. And while Tom slept, Harry looked at the flames in the newly created fireplace, thinking of his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited for next chapter :)


	7. Chapter 7

They came back in England after a few days of travelling and exploring the Himalayas. Harry was surprised at the satisfaction he felt when they finally stood in front of the house. It really was starting to feel like home. As for Tom, he gleefully returned to the books he had neglected during their adventures.

 

Soon, Harry could feel something tickling his wards. He smiled. Tom's invitation had arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office, monitoring the letters they would send to the new generation of students, when he saw one piece of parchment behaving strangely. The system the school had chosen was based on the registers of the ministry of magic. If the parents of the child they had detected were magical, the letter would go on the right pile. If not, it would belong to the left pile. Hogwarts also accepted students from other countries, but the families would have to send a letter first. All in all, it was a good system, one he had improved a few years back once he noticed that people with creature blood weren't always registered as wizards and witches by the ministry. Now the system was also based on whether or not one parent had attended Hogwarts.

 

But this letter was hovering between the two piles, seemingly indecisive. Albus gently grabbed it and looked at the address.

_Mr T. Riddle_

_In the room upstairs_

_The house made of living trees_

_Forest of Dean_

Well, he would have to bring the letter himself, just to make sure nothing was amiss.

 

After a well deserved meal, he appeared in the forest of Dean, letting his magic feel his surroundings. Seeing as the address had not indicated any city or village, he supposed the house he was looking for was lost in the forest. A brief scan of the muggle part of the forest only revealed a few children playing and some hikers. How strange. So the relatives were magical, but they hadn't registered themselves? He kept walking in the forest, but after a hour, he had to admit he felt a bit defeated. For the first time in years, he could not feel the magical protections of the house he was looking for.

 

Suddenly, he felt air moving behind him. When he turned briskly, wand in hand, he was surprised to see a man. He had not heard the characteristic 'crack' of apparition. His suspicion that the family he was looking for had creature blood grew stronger. The man in front of him only smiled and extended a hand.

"Hello. I am Harry Orson."

 

 Albus didn't feel any ill intention coming from him. A bit more relaxed, he responded in kind and shook his hand.

"Good afternoon. I am Albus Dumbledore, professor at Hogwarts. I'm looking for a Tom Riddle."

 

If anything the smile grew wider.

"He's my ward. Come, I will show you our home."

 

Albus was surprised by the casual nonchalance of the man, but kept a peaceful expression. He must have wandered in circles around his hidden destination. As they walked, Albus examined the man carefully. He wasn't particularly beautiful, some might even say plain, but his very green eyes could catch anyone's attention. He was wearing long black robes and messy black hair, and even if Albus couldn't feel any strong magic coming from him, the air around Harry Orson seemed to behave strangely, to still at his contact. Subtle but present. Open to the world but still hidden.

 

"So, would Tom be your son?" Albus asked, now well aware that the two didn't share a surname.

"Ah, well, I adopted him a few months ago. We bumped in London and I could feel a connection, I guess," explained the man without prompting.

Albus was a bit surprised. Sadly, very few accepted to adopt young wizards and witches who had some muggle blood. And in these times, with the war looming over the muggle world... He pushed any thought of the war far from his mind and continued:

 

"You know, when the relatives are magical, professors don't need to visit."

Harry Orson only looked at him. They had stopped walking. Albus' voice turned softer.

"If you aren't registered because of your blood, I have some contacts in the ministry, if you need them."

The man smiled.

"Thank you, but I prefer living in this forest, without anyone the wiser. I studied abroad and I don't really like attention. So it's good that Tom can meet one of his future professors before going to Hogwarts. With that said, we have arrived."

 

Still reeling from the refusal, Albus turned his head and any thought left him. The sight before him was _extraordinary_. Comfortably standing between the trees, without any sort of path leading to it but with vegetation just a bit less wild in front of it, the house seemed to belong to the forest. It was made from trees still planted in the ground and intrinsically attached together, and had roots that were sometimes visible, only to dive again in the earth. The house was rugged, with branches leaving it that looked like arms, some strong and other frail. On the roof, the trees had leaves that decorated it with a vibrant green in the warm air of summer. Albus could finally understand its name.

 

During his observations, Harry Orson had entered his home and called the boy, who quickly walked out of the house and sat at a little table in front of it, looking impatient. As Albus approached him, they stared at each other, Tom with greedy eyes, Albus a little more subtly. There was no resemblance between Harry Orson and Tom Riddle, not that it was surprising after what the man had explained. The boy was beautiful, and his dark eyes a bit unsettling. Albus smiled.

 

"Hello, Tom. I am professor Dumbledore. I assume you know why I'm here?"

"Hogwarts," breathed the boy, looking up at him. Albus finally sat in front of him and gave him his letter. Tom tore it immediately and began to read rapidly, while Harry Orson simply smiled.

"I'm going to prepare tea," the man declared, and he disappeared in the house soon after. Albus returned his attention to the boy.

 

Finally, Tom finished his letter and put it on the table, closing his eyes. After a moment of silence, Albus gently asked:

 

"Can your guardian bring you to Diagon Alley for your school supplies?"

"Of course," sneered Tom. Albus blinked pleasantly.

"Was my father a wizard? I was told that he was also named Tom Riddle," asked the boy suddenly.

"I'm afraid I did not know him," answered Albus softly.

"He must have been the wizard. My mother wouldn't have died if she was a witch," said the boy, more to himself than to Albus. He suddenly looked up.

"Have you already seen my guardian? Tell me the truth," he ordered, his dark eyes intense. Albus could feel a faint glimmer of persuasion against his brain. He raised an eyebrow.

"If you accept to go to Hogwarts, you'll have to call me 'professor' or 'sir'."

A stony expression flashed on Tom's face before he asked again, in a polite tone Albus had not yet heard from him:

"I'm sorry, sir... Have you already met my guardian?"

"I haven't. He told me he studied abroad."

 

What a strange relationship the two of them must have, for Tom to ask a stranger such details. Harry Orson finally reappeared with three floating cups of tea, but Albus stood up.

 

"I'm really sorry for leaving so rapidly, but I have to visit four more houses today."

And he needed to take a break from strange children and even stranger relatives. Harry Orson simply smiled and declared:

"If you two have finished your talk, I will escort you to the limits of the wards."

 

They walked in peaceful silence, and when they stopped, Harry Orson asked:

"So, what did you think of Tom?"

"He's already quite powerful for his age," answered Albus without missing a beat and without speaking of the tension he felt in the boy's presence. It was the truth after all, he could already feel faint power coming from Tom. Harry Orson smiled.

"He is. A blessing for what will come," he declared. Albus looked at the other man sharply. "Grindelwald grows slowly but surely stronger, after all."

 

And then, as Albus felt like he had been doused by cold water, Harry Orson looked at him right in the eye. His green eyes, that had seemed beautiful but harmless when he had first seen him, now were very piercing. He felt like he was being seen entirely by the other man, more, that he could see all that he had done, all that he could be, and that he was being judged for it. He forced himself to answer.

 

"We will do our best to help him at Hogwarts."

The man suddenly smiled, his eyes taking a more normal colour.

"That's all I could ask for. Good day, professor."

 

And then he turned and disappeared quickly behind the wards. Albus hadn't noticed they had left the territory of the house. He disappeared, promising himself to keep an eye on the boy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is ;) I struggled a bit with Dumbledore's POV, but I liked doing this


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I made a warning just in case (nothing gore or involving sex) so if you want, you can directly go to the end notes to see what it is about.

 

Harry was all in all pleased with his encounter with Dumbledore. He had wondered how he would feel when he would see the old -well, not right now- man. He wasn't disappointed. Even in his thirties, Dumbledore was powerful, and seemed strangely mysterious. It was difficult to know what he thought. It awoke a certain nostalgia in Harry. He had loved the old man, after all, despite everything.

 

It had seemed to go well with Tom, too. He had left them alone a few minutes to test the waters, to see if Tom would unsettle Dumbledore as deeply as he had in his old world. He was pleasantly surprised; even if Dumbledore didn't really look delighted by the boy, he didn't seem to think he had met a future dark lord. Or so Harry guessed; after all, it was hard to know what went through Dumbledore's mind. As for Tom, he had only narrowed his eyes and gave a neutral answer when Harry had asked him what he thought of his future professor, but, well, the boy didn't really like anyone, so Harry still considered the encounter to be a success. Tom was now rereading the books for the year to come, not that he needed it. Harry supposed that if it calmed him, he wouldn't say anything.

 

During the week after Dumbledore's visit, Harry tried to teach Tom how to hear the trees. The boy was terrible. Harry suspected that it was due to his skepticism. Still, even though he didn't really believe Harry about the "delicate language of the forest", Tom seemed vexed by the fact that he was unable to get the hang of it, and always tried again. At the end of the week, he could hear faint mutters, but he wasn't convinced that it didn't simply come from the wind in the leaves. After this small success, Harry decided to let himself fall asleep. He didn't want to have nightmares just before seeing Tom off to school, and there were only two weeks left before September. So that evening, after wishing Tom good night, Harry let himself fall in his bed and closed his eyes.

 

_Instantly, he appeared on a rock at the top of a waterfall. He looked down, unimpressed at the vertiginous heights. Sophie was already sitting next to him._

_"Hey, uncle Harry."_

_"Hello Sophie."_

_Sophie looked at him gravely. There was no cheek in her gaze, only wariness._

_"I can't hold her off any longer, Uncle Harry. She's grown stronger again."_

_Harry only looked at the water flowing around them. The sun was shining. Exotic birds were singing. But it all disappeared, and they found themselves standing in a cave. It didn't look at all like the one in the Himalayas. It was darker, the air was stuffier. Thousands of men had died here after an explosion._

_"It's gonna be okay, uncle Harry."_

_And then, she too disappeared. For a second, he was standing in this desolate cave, alone, but soon he heard footsteps that didn't try to sound delicate, he saw red hair that never attempted to look groomed, and suddenly Ginny was standing in front of him. He slowly took her in, her wide freckled face, her strong jaw, the scar on her cheek. She was beautiful, but what had always made her so striking was the fire in her brown eyes, and the sharpness in her smile. He didn't even dare to take a breath. Time had frozen. Slowly, oh so slowly, she took his hand. The darkness of the cave faded away and soon they were standing on Platform 9 3/4. Ginny was trying to reassure them both._

_"He will love Hogwarts. He's going to make so many friends! He won't even want to come home for Christmas."_

_Harry could see a head full of blue hair through the window. Ginny's grip tightened. Their hearts were shattering just a little bit._

_The platform took slowly the form of the Burrow's kitchen. Laughs and tinkering glasses replaced the conversations that took place in front of the train._

_"You really ought to have a child soon if you want him or her to grow with Teddy!" Mrs Weasley was saying. Bushy hair brushed against his shoulder, Ron's loud laugh tickled his ears. Harry felt something nudge his foot. When he looked up, he saw Ginny rolling her eyes not so discretely. When she saw she had his attention, she winked at him._

_Before Harry could respond in kind, the room disappeared, leaving him in the fresh air among a wild crowd in the stands. He was shouting, looking with delight at Ginny flying very high in the sky, who was scoring yet another goal. Teddy was jumping excitedly next to him, his cheeks and his hair red with euphoria._

_And then they were both in their room, fighting. He didn't even know what it was about, but a glass had shattered and then the tension exploded and now they were shouting. Harry flailed and hit his hand against the wall. Ginny suddenly stopped her rant and burst out laughing. Soon, Harry joined her._

_They were on Platform 9  3/4 yet again, accompanying Teddy and his wife. It was their turn to look heartbroken as they watched the train leave. Harry and Ginny were standing behind them, silently, and were looking at each other. They were holding hands quietly._

_Harry was lying in bed, looking at Ginny brushing her graying hair. He was feeling a bit empty. He got out of bed and came behind her. He looked in the mirror and made his hair the tiniest bit grayer, added just a few more wrinkles in the corner of his eyes to match her. Ginny looked at him in the mirror, a sly smile on her lips._

_"You shouldn't. I like having a young and fresh husband. Makes me feel like a powerful cougar. I should start wearing leather."_

_Harry felt a sudden burst of love fill his heart, and couldn't help  but kiss her while she laughed._

_And then... And then they were in their room, again. Harry had opened the windows and called the birds in because he knew she loved their song. She was lying in bed, breathing slowly, her eyes closed._

_"Harry..."_

_His grip on her hand tightened. He couldn't blink._

_"Harry..."_

_Ginny took her last breath._

 

Harry woke up.

He found he couldn't move. He blinked slowly. Everything was very, very heavy. He could barely breathe. After what felt like an eternity, he heard a sharp knock on the door. He didn't even try to answer. The door opened soon after either way, and then there were timid footsteps that grew stronger as Tom approached the bed. Harry slowly opened his eyes. The lights hurt.

 

"... Harry?"

 

Harry couldn't answer. Tom's voice hurt his ears. He wished the boy could just leave the room, he wished he could just go very far away. He felt a hand hesitantly touch his shoulder and he recoiled slightly. The boy murmured, having seemingly picked up on Harry's frown at his first words.

 

"Are you going to be okay?"

 

Yes, yes, he just wanted everybody to leave him alone, leave him to die here, just leave him here, in this bed, forever, until he was only dust, until he disintegrated perfectly, until every atom composing his body disappeared, it didn't matter that it would take centuries, millenniums, eons, just leave him here, just leave him here to die... Not only to die, but to disappear completely, until no one and nothing could attest of his existence...

 

Harry slowly nodded his head. Soon after, he could feel the door closing behind Tom. He didn't care.

 

He just lied in his bed, waiting for the end of the pain that was eating at him. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, and he couldn't die.

 

Distantly, Harry heard the sounds of Tom taking out the dishes he had used for breakfast. He closed his eyes.

 

Harry didn't care.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is an episode of depression in this chapter. If you feel like it might bother you, you can stop reading at the end of the dream and continue directly onto the next chapter without problem.
> 
> With that said, please tell me what you think :)


	9. Chapter 9

 

It took three days for Harry to manage to feel human again. The third day, he was able to open his eyes and to look at the carved ceiling. To breathe, slowly. In and out. In and out. Finally, he got out of bed, took a shower, and, after some hesitation, walked outside. Tom was eating breakfast at the table, and did not look up at Harry as he approached him, even if he knew the boy must have heard him. He slowly sat in front of him. They remained silent for a few minutes. Harry felt strangely tired, even after doing nothing at all.

 

"I'm sorry you had to see this."

 

Tom looked up sharply at that, but immediately, he returned to his food with a scowl. So it wouldn't be so easy.

 

"That's one of the reasons why I only sleep very rarely. The nightmares get at me sometimes."

"So you knew it could happen. You never warned me."

 

Tom looked... angry.

"I didn't think I had reached this stage yet. Normally it takes a few more dreams for me to become... like this."

"What dreams could do that to you?" asked Tom disdainfully. Really, the boy didn't walk on eggshells.

"Dreams of my first world. I still hold it dear to my heart."

Tom narrowed his eyes. Harry wasn't discouraged.

"I'm sorry I left you alone during these three days. Have you managed to understand the trees?"

 

There was a moment of tense silence, and then it seemed as if Tom had decided to follow Harry's lead and to move on from what had happened. He answered a bit reluctantly:

"Not really. I tried to understand, but I really just hear mutters."

"Oh," said Harry. "I might know what the problem is. Are you trying to decipher words?"

Tom's raised eyebrow was answer enough.

"I'm sorry, I should have warned you. It's more a matter of emotions. You have to feel the trees, to know how they perceive the world. And then, with enough concentration, you will be able to send something back. They are aware of you now, so it shouldn't be too difficult."

 

Tom looked skeptical again, but Harry didn't hold it against him. More importantly, the boy didn't seem to want to ask more questions about the last three days, which relieved him immensely. He still felt... brittle. But it didn't matter, now. The episode wasn't the longest he ever had; in a few hours, he would manage to push it in a corner of his brain.

 

Harry spent the rest of the day with Tom, trying to help him converse with the trees, but the boy didn't make much progress.

That night, while Tom was sleeping, Harry went diving in a lake deep in the forest, little lights he had created illuminating his way. There wasn't any noise here. It was calming. He stayed there until the sun began to color the water in warm golden tones, looking at the colorful fishes and seaweeds gently floating around him.

 

* * *

 

 The following morning, Harry brought Tom to Diagon Alley, much to the boy's delight. It was high time the boy got a wand. They first took care of the school supplies they hadn't bought yet, mostly sheets of parchment, to take notes, and a new cauldron, because Tom had already damaged the first one beyond repair with his strange experiments. And then, finally, they went to Ollivander's, Tom brimming with excitement, but still somehow managing to look stoic.

 

When they entered, the store was empty. Tom looked around him impatiently. There were shelves everywhere, forming a small labyrinth, from ground to ceiling, and each one was filled with long thin boxes. Each shelf emitted a confused energy, joyfulness meeting loyalty mixing with severity. It formed a strange and silent cacophony. After a few seconds, when it seemed as if the boy would burst with frustration, Ollivander appeared; Harry had to wonder whether or not the man had made them wait on purpose. He was as odd as in his memories, with his silver hair and his silver eyes. He declared in his soft voice:

"Welcome, Tom Riddle. And..." at that, Ollivander blinked, looking at Harry. "Hello, Mr..."

"Orson," completed Harry smoothly, under Tom's suspicious glare.

 

Ollivander stared at him unnervingly for a few seconds before focusing his attention on Tom.

"You're here for Hogwarts, I assume? Come, come, I need the necessary measurements," muttered Ollivander, his flying meter beginning to measure Tom's right arm after he presented it, then his fingers, then his back, and, noticeably, his nostrils. Harry suppressed a smile at Tom's growing irritation. The boy had become better at hiding his expressions.

 

Finally, Ollivander took a step back, muttering to himself. He went to the nearest shelf and drew a long box that he gave to Tom. "Acacia and dragon heartstring. Unyielding and loyal." Tom took the wand inside without hesitation and swirled it. A few sparks flew, but Ollivander reclaimed it immediately, shaking his head, and then disappearing momentarily to come back with another white box. "Fir and thestral tail hair. Commanding and versatile." As soon as Tom touched the wand, Ollivander narrowed his eyes and, again, took the wand back.

He seemed to think for a second, before he went for a shelf near the ground and drew a box that seemed cleaner than the others. He opened it under Tom's fascinated eyes, and Harry took a deep breath. He had recognized Voldemort's first wand. "Yew and phoenix feather. Very unusual combination. Made for greatness." White and with a few bumps, not totally smooth, it was beautiful. Tom seemed equally entranced. He slowly took it, and, when he carefully whirled it, green and golden sparks rained gently. The boy looked delightedly at his new wand, and only tore his gaze from it, surprised, when Harry started to clap. Tom looked proud. Harry paid quickly, and they exited the store.

 

"Is Ollivander only a wizard?" asked Tom, while they were fending the crowd. Harry smiled.

 

"You're perceptive. He is a seer. That's one of the reasons why he is so successful in his field: you have to pick specific places and times to take ingredients if you want a good wand, and even then, it's always difficult to create one without having seen its future owner beforehand. Ollivander is one of the only wandmakers who can give their customers a wand the same day they enter his shop."

"But isn't it more appealing to have a wand made especially for you?"

"Oh, the wand you're holding is made for you. But Ollivander didn't necessarily think that it would be for _you_ , Tom Riddle. He only felt that a wizard would one day walk into his shop and need this exact wand. Moreover, you're also made for it. Like I said, few in the field of wandmaking choose to create the wand before the wizard, but it would also be a logical choice."

"But _I_ chose my wand, no one else did it for me," retorted Tom, his lips pursed.

"I never said that. I'm simply telling you that your wand chose you, too. It was a mutual promise that you made back in the shop. Couldn't you feel it, when you held it for the first time?"

 

Tom mused over these words a few seconds, before looking up at Harry again, determination painted on his face.

"Do you have a wand?"

Harry smiled.

"I used to have one. Now I don't need it anymore."

Tom frowned again.

"Ah, we have arrived to Madam Malkin's."

 

They quickly finished their shopping, Tom constantly swirling his wand between his fingers.

 

* * *

 

 A few days later, Harry made Tom sit down and declared seriously:

"Soon, you will leave for Hogwarts. Do you remember what we discussed for your first day at the primary school?"

 

Tom didn't answer and just kept a stony face, likely thinking that the conversation would finish faster if he didn't speak. Harry raised an eyebrow. Well, at least he was still listening.

 

"You won't be along the same students, but I still ask you to be reasonable. To listen carefully to others, they may surprise you. And to try to get along with them."

"They are all children," answered Tom.

"You are a child, Tom. You know, my first world was very much like this one, and I met my best friends at Hogwarts. I simply hope you will meet wonderful people too."

 

Tom had looked up, his gaze intent. Harry didn't often speak about his world.

"Did we go to Hogwarts together?"

"You are not the same as the Tom Riddle from my old world. But no, I never went to school with him."

Tom blinked carefully.

"I will try to get to know my peers."

"Will you try to be friends with them?" asked Harry, narrowing his eyes.

"Of course," smiled Tom angelically.

"Didn't I already ask you to stop doing that face?" said Harry, a bit disgruntled. That expression was a sure way to know that Tom had stopped taking this conversation seriously.

"I don't know what you mean," answered Tom, still looking a bit too innocent.

Harry simply sighed.

"If I suspect that you are somehow bullying your fellow students, I will react exactly like I did a few weeks ago, just so you know."

 

Tom's eyes burned, his cheek forgotten. Back in June, Harry had found a few trinkets that were obviously stolen, including a pair of new glasses and a silver bracelet. He had taken one look at Tom's carefully blank face, and promptly dumped him in the middle of the magical part of the forest, forcing him to find his way to the house made of living trees alone and to fend for himself. When he had finally come home, he had had to give all the trinkets back, using careful lies and dimpled smiles to keep his stellar reputation intact. He didn't speak to Harry during the rest of the week as a result. Tom scowled.

"I will not bother them, unless they ask for it, of course."

Harry grinned.

"That is fair. I'm not worried about you. You will be absolutely great."

 

Tom simply raised an eyebrow in response.

Of course he would be.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. How do you feel about a Tom's POV? :)


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

Tom Riddle had always been alone, and he liked it.

Sometimes, he would catch himself looking at little kids pleading with their mommies and daddies to buy them ice-cream, and sick disgust would burn inside his guts. Tom knew that his parents wouldn't have been like these overgrown children, persuaded of their own importance, convinced that they were the gods of their toddlers. And even if they had been, it didn't matter. Tom didn't depend on anyone. Admittedly, he found himself wondering, sometimes, who his father was, if he was still alive, but really, if the man had abandoned him, he didn't even deserve a sliver of Tom's attention.

(But Tom wondered, at night...)

Adults were, for the most part, stupid, or egoistical, or both. Children were the same in these aspects, but they were also incredibly whiny.  Tom had to constantly walk among lambs that thought they were wolves.

 

Thankfully, he knew, he _knew_ with certainty that he couldn't be compared to them, that he was on a whole other level. Because of his gift. He had possessed it for as long as he could remember, and, growing up, he had quickly learned how to control it. Oh, Billy had thought himself better than Tom, prancing around as if a rabbit and the few inches he had gained through the summer suddenly made him a human being. Tom had felt deeply satisfied when he had gazed upon Billy's crying face, once he saw the hanged rabbit. The old cow's suspicious eyes began to follow him even more closely after the incident, but it was worth it.

 

It was at the end of May that everything changed. A few older children had finally guessed that Tom was the one who had stolen their prized cigarettes (and the one who had sold them discreetly, but they didn't need to know how much money he had made with their own stolen goods). Tom, scowling, had had no other choice than to run, even if it was undignified. He had managed to knock out one of the kids and had compelled another to hit one of his friends, but he was still outnumbered; he had had to run once he took a punch.

 

He bumped into a tall and thin man. Another useless breathing lump, seemingly designed just to annoy him. But then, the man pronounced a few words, and suddenly Tom was looking into the greener eyes he had ever seen.

_("Oh. You're magical.")_

* * *

Diagon Alley was perfect, everything he had ever hoped for without daring to formulate it clearly, brimming with magic, sounds, colors, and strange shops everywhere. He had known, he had _known_ for a long time now that he was special, and here was his proof. Here it was, laid out in front of him, waiting for him to take it, to claim it. He quickly left Harry at Fortescue's, his mind whirling.

 

He wondered if every wizards and witches were like Harry Potter. The man was shining in his eyes, the world itself seemed to converge strangely towards him. And it was yet again proof of the muggles' daftness that no one seemed to see the invisible lines of the universe that seemed intrinsically bound to a single man; to Harry Potter.

Still, maybe it was something that every wizards and witches shared. For now he hadn't yet seen the same display of magic from them, but maybe they were more discreet...  The man had managed to counter his will, something that nobody had done before, but maybe it was common, here.

But Harry Potter had said that they were special, both of them. And of course, of course even among the elite, even among the small group of people that wielded magic every single day as if it were nothing, Tom was special; of course understanding snakes and ordering them was rare. Now the question was whether or not Harry Potter really was unique.

He wondered if the man really could travel between worlds. He had never even thought of that, of the idea of a multitude of hidden worlds, he had been too preoccupied by the little playground that was the orphanage and... and the _muggle part_ of London.

 

How fitting, this world, _muggle_ , they are not like us, we are nothing like them, a whole magical barrier separating us, now, thought Tom with jubilation. He had always known he walked among sheep, and he had somehow been pleased with it, but now... It was much more exciting, in the end, to think that there existed people, real people in this world.

 

Tom narrowed his eyes. There was an alley, just there, between two stores, but everyone was passing it. He was suddenly reminded of the bar that no muggle could see. Was it spelled in the same way? He approached it, and entered into .... he looked up reading a battered nameplate. Into Knockturn Alley. He understood rapidly that this was the infamous district that Diagon Alley hid, and he smiled viciously, looking around him discreetly. There were always thousands of hidden possibilities in this kind of places, books deemed not Christian enough for the public, cigarettes, odd jobs...  

He entered into an old bookshop, far dustier and less proper than the one in the Diagon Alley. The owner wasn't there. He took a book, and began to read a guide to hunt and rear dark creatures. The terms 'dark' and 'light' had a whole different meaning in the wizarding world, it seemed. He wondered what the distinction was, where the line stood. Suddenly, the door opened. A blonde man entered, looking very proud of himself and of his rich robes. Tom sneered internally. He knew that type. This time, an old woman quickly got out of the back of the shop to salute the customer.

"Good afternoon, Lord Malfoy. I just finished cleaning the book you wanted!"

But Malfoy didn't even glance at her. He was studying Tom, who made sure to stand the slightest bit taller in his uniform.

"Mrs Pine, would you be so courteous as to tell me why a little mudblood is standing in your shop."

Tom blinked. The woman focused her attention on him too, keeping her face blank.

"There must have been a mistake, Lord Malfoy. I'm deeply sorry," and then, as she saw that Tom hadn't moved, she hissed. "Get out."

 

Tom, his cheeks infuriatingly red, put the book back on the shelf, and walked out of the shop, quickly glancing at Malfoy. The man wasn't even looking at him anymore, seemingly bored. Something burned inside of him, and Tom... Tom was... He walked away, back to Diagon Alley, but it seemed false, now, a sweet facade.

He approached Fortescue's again, approached Harry. Nobody was looking at the green eyed man. Tom hadn't really understood why, at first, he had thought that maybe the way the universe was moving around the man was normal to the wizards and witches, to the ones who lived in a world of magic and had grown used to it. But now he knew that it wasn't the case. Couldn't they see that he shone, couldn't they hear the magic around Harry Potter? Tom supposed his trip to Knockturn Alley had answered his question. Wizards and witches were livestock, too, maybe more evolved than the muggles, but it wasn't very difficult to be better than them. Harry Potter... seemed to be the only one who could open his eyes. His stomach churning, he quickly sat in front of Harry, internally making up a few half-truths.

 

* * *

 

 Harry left. Tom had thought... Tom had thought that the man had seen him, too, that he had recognized Tom as something more. They had met before, after all, in his old world, apparently. He wondered what had happened in that world just out of reach, far away in time and space, between him and Harry Potter. Why were they enemies? Hadn't Other-Tom recognized that Harry Potter was unique? Or maybe he knew that the man was special, and fought him because of it. From what he had seen from Harry, he was atrociously naive and foolish about the most useless things. It wouldn't be a far stretch of imagination. But it was useless to think about it now. Harry Potter clearly didn't think that _Tom_ was special, he sneered.

The older kids had wisely decided to leave him alone. The brief courage that their number had given them had quickly disappeared. Tom resigned himself to the long wait until September. He knew that Harry wouldn't hold his promise. But it didn't matter, because there was the assurance of Hogwarts, far more compelling in hindsight.

And then, shining with magic, Harry Potter reentered into his life. The same day, he would meet his home. He never had one before,  but, Tom thought, looking at his new room with its shelves waiting to be filled, this one would do.

 

* * *

 

 Tom had always been alone, and he wasn't anymore.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, we return to the present in the next chapter, I just wanted to show Tom's side of things in the beginning :)


End file.
